


Indications

by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion



Series: Rarepair Bingo [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Watching Bob Ross
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 22:39:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14603238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion/pseuds/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion
Summary: “Are you watching Bob Ross again?” Scorpius asks, glancing shrewdly at the little square of light held in Albus’s hands. Albus cups the phone protectively as Scorpius draws near.





	Indications

**Author's Note:**

> Scorbus, or even Gen fic, for the prompts; "I'll be the one to tuck you in at night" and "Watching Bob Ross" and "Bedsharing."
> 
> Lol this is barely anon, apologies :D
> 
> Thank you <3

Scorpius shuts the door to Albus’s bedroom with a small sigh. It’s dark inside, and kind of cold, and there’s a lump on the bed. The lump is wearing Scorpius’s University hoodie even though the lump has an identical one in their drawer, and as far as he can tell, there are earphones inside the green hood. 

Scorpius sighs and takes a step forward, a salt and vinegar crisp packet crackling beneath his socks. He takes a step back, grimaces at his foot and then flicks the light on. 

Albus is up in a flash, sitting bolt upright in bed, earphones still dangling from his ears, a wild look on his face. One cheek is covered in pillow creases, bright red where he’s been leaning on it, and his hair is remarkably flat where it’s been crushed beneath a hood all day. He sags when he spots Scorpius and aims a scowl at him.

“I thought you were someone else.”

He looks exhausted, and still happy that Scorpius is here, and Scorpius wants to be the one to tuck him in at night, every night, and make sure he actually rests. Scorpius smiles at him, and Albus smiles back tiredly, shifting so that his sleeves come down over his fingers, which is when Scorpius spots it. 

“Are you watching Bob Ross again?” Scorpius asks, glancing shrewdly at the little square of light held in Albus’s hands. Albus cups the phone protectively as Scorpius draws near. 

“Don't take him from me again,” Albus says, curling up on one half of the bed, so that Scorpius can cram himself in beside him. “It’s been a very long day and I need him.”

“You don't even paint,” Scorpius says. He feels more amused than exasperated - something about the endearing puffiness of Albus’s grumpy expression makes him feel warm. 

“He’s not just a painter, though,” Albus protests, rolling over so he’s on his side, facing Scorpius, and he hands Scorpius an earphone. “He’s an artist, and he makes worlds as he goes. And he has squirrels and he thinks trees needs friends.”

Scorpius sighs, but it’s fond. He tucks himself in properly, pulling the sheets up over their curled legs. It’s warm under the cotton duvet. He feels at home, and he feels the stress of the day, of classes and exams, slip off him.

He’s never watched Bob Ross before, but the man's voice is surprisingly soothing. 

“He’s American,” Scorpius says, surprised. He’s even more surprised when Albus presses a finger to Scorpius’s mouth, shushing him urgently, but he shouldn’t be. He rolls his eyes and settles in, catching Albus’s hand and lacing their fingers together under the covers, brushing a thumb over Albus’s knuckles. They fall silent again, listening to Bob Ross talk about trees. 

_“Anybody, anybody, can put a little masterpiece on canvas, with just a little vision in your mind, and off you go.”_

“Turn the light off,” Albus says, around a yawn. Scorpius scowls at him, and reaches behind him for something vaguely hard, landing on a pack of post-it notes, which he lobs at the light switch with a thump. 

The room darkens immediately, and they lie in silence. Scorpius gets lost in the video for a while, and it isn’t until it rolls over to the third episode that he glances up and spots Albus’s closed eyes. His lashes are dark spines against his cheeks, like pine needles, illuminated by the soft light from the phone. 

He reaches up gently and untucks the earphone from Albus’s ear, folding the wire around the phone and stretching carefully to place it on the desk. Albus works too hard, trying desperately to make the world see him for him, to make his friends and family look at him and see Albus, and not Potter. He works long hours into the night when he should be sleeping, and he guzzles energy drinks to keep him awake, and he works and works and works until he’s deathly tired, all the way down to the blood in his veins, all just to be seen. 

“I see you,” Scorpius promises him quietly, brushing a stray lock of Albus’s hair aside. Albus makes a small, sleepy sound and shifts closer, and Scorpius tucks the sheets closer around them, curls up, and watches Albus sleep until he drifts off.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you! <3


End file.
